


Trouble with Music

by atenaglory



Series: Diner Talks [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/M, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atenaglory/pseuds/atenaglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus finds Shepard alone during shore leave and decides to check in on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble with Music

The crew spent all of their time on the ship, and so usually they immediately went about their business for shore leave. They all had things that they wanted to do, and limited time to get those things done. Shepard did her own shopping and visiting, as well. Unlike when she was Alliance, there wasn’t much actual business to do on the Citadel these days. Being a dead ally of Cerberus had its perks. She did, however, make sure to keep up with Councilor Anderson. She would also always check around her favorite stores, and sometimes she’d drop by Captain Bailey or stroll around Zakera Ward.

Each time they had shore leave, Shepard made sure to stop by an Earth-style restaurant. Although the Wards had various places that boasted authentic Earth food, there was one place that she especially liked. It was out of the way, but it apparently had the feeling of an old-timey diner. She’d seen the replicas on Earth, brightly colored, blaring unfamiliar music from a distant past, but she could never afford to enter one. Before she’d been spaced, she’d found a restaurant in the Wards that reminded her of those Earth diners, with the same type of music playing, the same bright sign outside with all of the black and white tiling, and shiny red seating on the inside. She’d promised herself to check it out once the business with Saren was done, but she had promised herself a lot of things. She certainly hadn’t expected her ship to get blown out of the sky. She hadn’t expected to watch the burning wreckage of the Normandy while she suffocated over Alchera.

These days, Shepard always set aside an hour or two to stop by the diner for some “classic Earth food,” as the sign advertised. She used it as time to recuperate. Alone time was hard to come by on the Normandy, especially since she suspected that her actions were monitored regardless of whether she was alone, but it was a valuable and reliable method of recovery for her. And Shepard saw a lot of shit doing what she did. So she’d come to this restaurant, pick out the most secluded corner, and enjoy her food. She would sometimes do some leisure reading or browse magazines, or just enjoy the atmosphere and the solitude.

During one particular solo visit to the diner, as Shepard admired the day’s spoils (she’d had to pass over the Geth ship, which had been a little expensive, but a model of Sovereign had just become available so she’d bought that and some sunfish for the aquarium), she found herself being addressed by a familiar voice.

“I didn’t expect to find you out _here_ , Shepard,” came the unmistakable mix of smugness and subvocals that could only belong to one person. Garrus sat down across from Shepard in her booth.

“Garrus. What brings you here?”

“You do.” Shepard raised her eyebrows, and Garrus continued, “You always come to check on us, check on the Councilor, check on Bailey, and then disappear. I figured, everyone is so busy cramming all their needs into the short time we spend here that no one checks on you.”

Shepard smiled. “What about your needs? Don’t you have people to see and places to be, _former C-Sec Officer_?”

“Well I’m _currently_ part of your squad on the Normandy, and I’m here. To see you.”

“Oh? How did you find me, anyway?”

“You just mentioned my time on C-Sec. You realize that I was an _investigator_ , right? I wasn’t half bad at my job, either.”

“Alright, don’t tell me, then.”

Garrus chuckled. “What even is this place? Do you come here every time we visit the Citadel? You have us confined to Zakera Ward and yet you’re way out here in Bachjret Ward?”

“This is, apparently, a diner. A kind of old-school Earth restaurant. I found it one time while we were fighting Saren. Back then I would just explore the Wards on my own when I let you guys loose for shore leave. But I never really had the time to check it out properly. Nowadays, I come here to wind down.”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Garrus said, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Please. I was just admiring my haul from today’s shopping spree.”

“Let me guess, some designer bags and dresses, right?”

“So close! Look at this,” She removed a box from one of the bags. “How bizarre is it that they’d sell a model of the ship that almost destroyed the Citadel in the _Citadel souvenir shop_?”

“What is that supposed to be, some kind of trophy?” He drew back from the boxed model of Sovereign.

“Hey, I deserve a trophy or something, especially since nobody believes me about the Reapers. Except, you know, my generous terrorist backers.”

Garrus fell silent, but continued to look at Shepard.

“Not even a chuckle about the terrorist thing? What is it?”

“I don’t know how you do it, Shepard.”

“How I do what?”

“This. This war. How can you keep going when the Council _and_ the Alliance have turned their backs on you? Even if you stop the Collectors, you’ll still be considered a criminal for working with Cerberus, no matter how many ways you make it clear that you don’t trust them or support their ideologies. Where do you find the strength?”

“Well, thanks for reminding me of all that,” Shepard joked. Garrus still didn’t laugh, though, and continued to look at her. She sighed.

“Garrus, if I don’t stop the Collectors, if I don’t keep fighting the Reapers, who will? If I don’t believe that this can be done, how will my crew?”

“There you go using your commander-voice. Sorry, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way out here to have to use that.”

Shepard looked surprised for a moment, before smiling and relaxing, grabbing some French fries from her plate and munching on them. Garrus continued observing her, and they remained like that in relative silence for a while.

“So tell me something, Commander,” Garrus eventually said.

“Hm?” She looked up at him.

“You’re Commander Shepard of the Normandy, hero of the Skyllian Blitz, hero of the Citadel. You’re known for favoring your words over your guns, but you’re also known to get the job done either way. You’re a Spectre, admired and feared. You didn’t even stop after you got killed. If that wasn’t enough, it seems that you’re quite the flirt, and perpetually have a list of suitors.”

She grinned, the sly grin that he recognized from when she teased him about the “tie-breaker” that they had scheduled. He swallowed, but continued.

“What aren’t you good at?”

That got her. She raised her eyebrows at him, and stared for a second.

“I can’t tell you that, soldier,” she said, but she wasn’t being serious. Still trying to banter her way out of the conversation. She did tend to hold back when the conversation was about her.

“Come on, Shepard,” he said, still refusing to back down from his serious demeanor.

She considered his question, absently running her fingers over the rim of her glass.

“Music,” she said simply.

He just barely stopped himself from making a joke about her dancing. The melancholy apparent in her voice made him hold back.

“I watched a lot of things happening around me when I was a kid. I saw places like this restaurant, laundromats, people’s houses… Whenever I got my hands on something to eat, I would stop and have a look around. My favorite places were concert venues. So much food always gets thrown out at those that I started to figure out where they were happening and showing up early to get the best food. But eventually I started to listen to the music. I’d go to all kinds of places, so I’d hear all kinds of music.

“One day, in my roaming, I came across and old guitar that had been put out as trash. I was so excited and I decided that I would learn to play it, even if I had to teach myself. I could get tips off of it! Become famous! Headlines about me saying, ‘Orphan Child Rescues Self from Life of Poverty with Old Guitar’! But when I picked it up and started plucking at the strings, one of them snapped and sliced my finger open. I haven’t tried music since.”

“So… not to be insensitive, but… your lack of musical prowess basically boils down to your fear of guitar strings, right?”

“I mean, I don’t have a lot of time for music lessons. The press would go crazy with that.”

“Shepard. Are you afraid of guitar strings?”

She frowned up at him, but was silent.

“You know there are instruments without strings, right? And what about singing?”

“I… don’t know a lot of songs with words. Only the ones that play in this restaurant.”

Garrus paused to listen to the music that was playing. It sounded happy, lots of horns and piano and backup “oohs” and “ah’s” and “hey-hey-hey’s”. He looked back at her, raising a brow plate. A challenge.

Shepard looked back at him, unsure herself of what was about to happen, but then she decided that it was just Garrus, and took a deep breath and joined in with the music:

“ _Why do you build me up, Buttercup, baby_

_Just to let me down and mess me around_

_And then worst of all, you never call, baby_

_When you say you will_

_But I love you still_

_I need you more than anyone darlin’_

_You know that I have from the start_

_So build me up, Buttercup, don’t break my heart”_

 

Her voice had been smoother than the singer’s, smoother and higher than her normal speaking voice, and absolutely stunning. Although the music was bouncy and fun, Shepard’s singing had been even and lyrical. With her singing along, it sounded completely different. Garrus stared, dumbstruck.

“Uh,” Shepard cleared her throat, her voice returning to its normal huskiness. “That bad?”

“No, I just, ah,” he shook his head and took a deep breath. “I have my translator set so that it doesn’t translate music. Messes up the rhythms and stuff. It sort of felt like I was hearing your voice for the first time.”

She looked at him, eyes wide, then hesitantly asked, “Did you… like it?”

“You sounded great, Shepard.”

There was a pause. They continued to look at each other, a faint smile playing at the edges of Shepard’s mouth, her cheeks faintly pink. Then, as though remembering where he was, Garrus blurted, “Anyway, listen Shepard, sorry about barging in on you like this. I know you need your alone time but I wanted to make sure you were alright. I worry when you disappear, so I came to find you and take your mind off of stuff. You know. Just for a bit. Glad to know you were here the whole time.”

“Thanks, Garrus.” Her answering smile was much softer than normal. Garrus had seen a part of her that he might never have even imagined.

“Oh, and Shepard,” he said, regaining his usual smugness. “Music definitely doesn’t count as something you’re bad at. Got you something.”

He left, leaving a bag on the table. She watched him go, and then peeked inside the bag to find the boxed model Geth ship that she’d decided not to buy earlier. He knew her too well.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmm I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this one. It didn't even start out as shakarian tbh. What can I say, I love them.  
> I once skimmed a headcanon or fic about Shepard being good at singing and I couldn't forget about it, so I think it weasled its way into this while I was writing.
> 
> I think lyrics are okay, but just in case: I don't own "Build Me Up, Buttercup" (or Mass Effect of any of the characters).


End file.
